by Lucy Monroe
So Leah had moved to Capezzana straight away, with Jaco joining her for the first few days to help her settle in. Showing her around the grand palazzo, he had casually told her to treat it as her home, to choose whichever rooms she wanted for her offices and accommodation—as many as she liked.
Because it was the vineyard that was Jaco’s real passion—that was evident in the way his eyes lit up when he discussed the type of grapes they grew, last year’s harvest, the quality of the wine they produced.
Leah had been left in no doubt about what Capezzana meant to him. And, in turn, how much faith he was putting in her by giving her this job. She had determined there and then that she wasn’t going to let him down. She would work hard, learn fast and prove to Jaco, and to herself, that she wasn’t the flighty airhead that some of her stupid decisions of the past would suggest. Show him that his faith in her had not been misplaced.
On his last night there they had been sharing a simple supper outside, watching the sun setting over the vines, when finally it had happened. Finally the storm of desire that had been steadily building between them for so long had broken.
Starting with a bruising kiss, they had been tearing at each other’s clothes within seconds, stumbling backwards into the palazzo in their haste to find a bedroom, breathlessly surrendering to their craving hunger with wild, reckless abandon.
And so it had started—their stop-start relationship. Blisteringly hot nights of passion interspersed with long periods apart when Jaco was jet-setting around the world.
A billionaire tycoon with the Midas touch, his packed portfolio meant that the demands on his time were enormous. Leah had learnt to accept that that was just the way it was. And, despite the passionate nature of their relationship, they had both kept it light, had concentrated on living for the moment, having fun.
For Leah’s part, it was all about self-preservation—trying to hold herself back, refusing to let herself fall for this enigmatic man. And Jaco... Who knew what lay beneath that darkly compelling charm? Sometimes Leah wondered if he was just too preoccupied, too mercurial, too damned busy with his own big-shot career ever to belong to anyone.
Yet as she looked at him now—the living, breathing embodiment of him, instead of just a heated memory in her mind—and he gazed at her with those midnight eyes, he managed to make her feel as if she was the most gorgeous, most treasured creature ever to set foot on this earth. As if she was all he could ever want.
The fragile hope that she had so carefully repressed bloomed into life. Maybe, in view of what she had to tell him tonight, their relationship could become a much more permanent arrangement. Maybe they could be a proper couple...a family.
There was one sure way to find out...
‘Actually, Jaco...’ Leah took in a deep breath. ‘There is something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Sí?’
But already Jaco was distracted, dropping his bag to retrieve the phone that was buzzing in his trouser pocket. Leah watched as, his head bent, thick dark curls gleaming, his thumbs flew over the keypad. That bloody phone. It was like an instrument of torture. She would wait weeks to see Jaco, only to find herself competing with the wretched thing. And if not that, some other form of electronic communication.
He looked up. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’
The phone buzzed again and, pulling an apologetic face, Jaco started to tap out another reply.
‘Scusa.’ He was still concentrating on the screen. ‘I have to reply to this.’
Of course you do.
‘I’ll tell you what...’ Leah sighed with exasperation. ‘Why don’t I fix us some food while you finish what you have to do?’
‘Buona idea.’ He picked up his bag again and slung it over his shoulder. ‘I’ll have a really quick shower.’ That wickedly slow smile put in another appearance. ‘Unless you want to join me, of course? In which case it could take a bit longer.’
The phone in his hand buzzed again. Leah scowled.
‘Ten minutes.’ He dropped a kiss on her lips before turning away, putting the phone to his ear. ‘Then I’m all yours.’
Leah stared after him, at his arrogant height, the broad set of his shoulders, the play of muscles beneath the handmade shirt. And somewhere inside her she felt her heart twist. Because deep down she wondered whether that could ever be true.
The ten minutes stretched into fifteen...twenty. Sitting out on the terrace, watching the golden sun lengthening the shadows of the vines as it started to sink below the horizon, Leah pushed aside her bowl of untouched pasta. Picking up a piece of bread, she absent-mindedly threw a few crumbs to the sparrows pecking around her feet.
This was typical of Jaco—always so busy, always clinching one deal or chasing after another. Always keeping her waiting. Even though her job kept her occupied, and even though she loved it, it still felt to Leah as if her time at Capezzana was time spent in limbo—just waiting for Jaco to reappear.
But tonight he was here. And, even though he didn’t know it yet, she was about to get his full attention. Telling him he was going to be a father was huge—momentous. She had no idea how he was going to take it. She hadn’t begun to get her own head around the idea—yet.
With a heavy sigh, Leah pushed back her chair and went inside, where the only sound was coming from the overhead fan circulating the warm air. Was Jaco still in the bedroom?
Her bare feet made no sound as she crossed the old tiled floors towards the rooms she had occupied since moving in here. With their French doors, opening out onto a small terrace, she had picked them over the many other empty bedrooms upstairs, liking its cosy feeling of a small apartment inside this rambling palazzo. Liking, too, the way Jaco always automatically headed there when he visited—as if her space was his.
Despite herself, her mind began conjuring up images of him still naked from the shower, of his smile when he saw her, of the way he would take her in his arms and make love to her, all thought of food forgotten. All thought of what she had to say to him forgotten—at least for a short while. She knew she had absolutely no willpower as far as Jaco was concerned.
With her hand on the doorknob of the bedroom, she hesitated. She could hear Jaco speaking. Yet another business deal, no doubt.
Silently turning the handle, she had only opened the door a fraction when some sixth sense kicked in, telling her that, no, this was not a business conversation. Through the crack in the door she could see him, sitting on the bed, his back to her, a laptop balanced on his knee. He was taking a video call, and the woman on the screen was dark-haired, dark-eyed...beautiful.
A cold finger of dread traced Leah’s spine. Speaking in Sicilian, their voices were soft, Jaco’s little more than a whisper, but there was no mistaking the tone—tender, caring, the sort of tone that lovers shared.
Leah forced herself to try and understand what they were saying over the deafening thud of her heart. Her command of the language was pretty basic, but Jaco seemed to be telling her not to worry, that everything would be all right.
‘Lo prometto, Francesca.’
I promise.
But it was their final words that left no room for doubt. Paralysed with dread, Leah watched as the woman touched two fingers to her lips and blew Jaco a kiss, smiling tenderly as she told him she loved him. And Jaco’s reply shattered Leah’s world into a thousand pieces there and then.
‘Ti amo anch’io...’
I love you too.
She turned away, blinded by tears, numbed by the shock that was slowing her heart, closing her throat.
How could she have been so stupid? How could she ever have thought that she and Jaco might actually have a future? How could she have been taken for a fool by a man again—only this time a thousand times worse, a thousand times more painful?
Retracing her steps, she fled back out onto the terrace, descending the steps that led do
wn into the private garden, running through the archway in the yew hedge and out into the vineyard itself. Racing through the rows of vines, she just kept going, running and running, the heavy bunches of grapes swinging as she rushed past, her breath burning in her chest. She had no thought for where she was going. No thought for anything other than that she had to get away.
Copyright © 2018 by Andrea Brock
ISBN-13: 9781488083778
The Spaniard’s Pleasurable Vengeance
First North American publication 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Lucy Monroe
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